


Photographic Evidence

by Franniesgurrl



Series: Scientific Discoveries [4]
Category: Scarecrow and Mrs. King
Genre: F/M, Hospitals, Photography, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-23 11:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8326726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Franniesgurrl/pseuds/Franniesgurrl
Summary: Francine inadvertently lets a long-kept secret out. Ephraim doesn't care.





	1. Positives and Negatives

The kissing might actually be his favorite part. He was still having trouble believing he was even in a relationship with Francine and while the sex was amazing, it was these quiet moments when she was lying on top of him on the sofa in his apartment, hands running through his hair, her lips gliding across his jaw, his collarbone, his lips… She stopped there, her tongue flickering along his mouth demanding entrance until his lips parted. The taste of her was dizzying as she curled her tongue around his, then tickled the roof of his mouth, a sensation he would have been happy to die feeling, although he did eventually wrench himself free to breathe.

He inhaled deeply, her perfume sent his head spinning with joy at the same time as it sent heat coursing through his body, making his cock harden and he groaned into her hair. He couldn’t help himself, his hand cupped her ass and pulled her closer to grind against his growing erection.

“I thought you were tired,” she smirked, rocking her hips against his slowly as he groaned.

“I am,” he muttered “but you’re killing me here.”

“You don’t seem tired,” she smirked as she slid a hand under his shirt and flicked one of his nipples, sending shocks of electricity down his spinal cord.

“Desmond, you were the one who said we should just spend a quiet evening getting to know each other,” he pointed out sarcastically.

“That’s true,” she said, “but that was before you started to get me all hot and bothered with Beaman Junior.” She ground herself purposefully against his crotch.

“Mmmm, well, I might be waking up a little,” he admitted, as his hands began to slide up and down her body.

“Seems like it.”

“Tell you what,” he said. “Let’s each tell one story about ourselves in the name of getting to know each other better, and then we can…”

“Get to know each other better?” she finished his sentence as he laughed softly. “Okay, what was the worst job you ever had?”

Ephraim answered without even pausing to think. “Working on my uncle’s dairy farm.”

“It was hard work milking old Bessie?” she teased.

“No, the machines did the milking. My job was shoveling shit in a barn of 75 head of cattle. Any idea how far a cow can spray poop when she has a case of diarrea? Well, some days, she can hit the wall ten feet away – whether you happen to be walking by or not.”

“I'm sorry I asked now,” Francine laughed. “Did it at least pay well?”

“Yeah, it did actually,” he admitted. “Got me through college so I can’t really complain. How about you? Were you a trust fund girl or a scholarship girl?”

“Oh, I paid my own way,” scoffed Francine. “My father wanted me to be the very best at everything but that was mostly because he gambled away most of his paychecks and so I had to get scholarships to get me through.”

“Didn’t the scholarships cover most of it then?” he asked, fingers combing through her hair in a soothing motion at the flash of anger he’d accidentally provoked with his question.

“They paid for a lot, but I still had to find money for things like food and rent. It made me pretty self-sufficient.”

“So what kind of jobs did you work? What paid the best?”

“Modeling,” she answered without thinking, then immediately looked like she’d regretted saying it.

“I can believe that. What kind did you do?” he asked, his curiosity peaked by the look on her face.

“A bit of this, a bit of that. Boring stuff really.”

“The look on your face doesn’t say ‘boring’, he teased. “Were you a porn star or something?”

Her brows snapped together and her lips thinned.

“Hey, come on,” he said gently, taking her face in his hands. “I was just teasing. Tell me all about your boring modeling career.”

She didn’t get any less tense though; she just studied his face carefully before sighing and sitting up, curling up on the opposite corner of the couch with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring down into her lap. He pushed himself upright and leaned forward trying to get her to look at him.

“Desmond? Come on, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. I just didn’t mean to ever talk about that again. I’ve spent years covering those tracks and then with you… I just let it slip out without thinking.”

“Let what out? You’re not even making sense.” He watched silently as she appeared to have a silent argument with herself before finally looking up, squaring her shoulders but with still just a trace of uncertainty on her face.

“I know you were kidding, but you weren’t completely wrong,” she said.

“”Wrong about what?” She didn’t answer and he started to smile trying to tease her back into a good mood. “The porn star thing? Oh come on, I never meant you…”  He stopped dead as she flinched away from his words. “Wait, what?”

Her eyes flashed briefly with anger before she answered in a tight voice. “I wasn't a porn star, ok? But some of the modeling was, well let’s just say it wasn't for the Sears-Roebuck catalogue.”

He gaped at her for a few second, processing what she’d said, before finally asking uncertainly, “So like… boudoir shots?”

She snorted then – the closest he’d gotten to a laugh from her for the last few minutes. “No, not boudoir shots - that makes it sound glamorous. No, these were just good old fashioned nude photos.” She gave a quick glance up under her lashes at him before going back to talking to her lap. “I was dating a photographer when I was 20 and most of the stuff I was doing for modeling money really was just things like ads for the local paper, but one day he talked me into letting him take some pictures… _Just for us_ , he said and I believed him. Until ten months later when I suddenly get a letter from Gardiner Publishing and a cheque for $2500 for use and distribution of my image. Turns out that after we broke up, he sold on his portfolio to a company that produced calendars for men.”

Ephraim gave a long whistle. “And you couldn’t stop them from publishing it?”

“Nope, I’d signed a comprehensive release form for the other stuff not knowing it would cover any picture he took of me,” she shrugged. “And in those days $2500 practically paid my whole tuition. I couldn’t really complain except for that worrying that I was going to run into someone who recognised me.”

“You never did?”

“Not anyone who ever said so to my face, but I spent a lot of years worrying about it until I figured it had been long enough that no one would make the connection.” She stopped talking and looked up at him wide-eyed. “I can’t believe I just handed you that whole story. Talk about blackmail material.”

“Good thing I'm not a blackmailer then,” he laughed as he dragged her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. “But I am a fan of naked women. I’ll bet you were cute.”

“Oh I'm sure if you search flea markets, you can probably still find a 1973 McKinley’s of Iowa Fine Motor Oil company calendar.” She began to relax into his body, even as his tensed up. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He was already lifting her off his lap back onto the sofa and racing for his bedroom. “Holy shit! Not a ghost,” he called back laughing. “But maybe a blast from the past.” She got up and followed, surprised to find him on his knees in his closet pulling boxes out from the back like a madman.

“What are you doing?” she asked, even as he made a triumphant noise and dumped out the contents of one of the boxes. “Are you crazy? What are you even looki-  Oh fucking hell, no!” she couldn’t help swearing as he reached into the stack of papers scattered across the floor and brandished something with a flourish. “That cannot seriously be...”

“Hello Miss June 1973!” he crowed, leaping to his feet and picking her up in a fireman’s lift, all without letting go of the calendar. He carried her back out to the living room, while she squirmed in protest, then sat back down with her on his lap and began to flip through the pages methodically.

“Ephraim, how is that even possible? That was 14 years ago! You were in grammar school!” She’d given up trying to get away and was now sitting rigidly with her eyes closed.

“Hey! No trying to hurt my feelings with that younger man shit,” he scolded. “I was a very horny 17 year old in 1973 and this calendar was in my uncle’s tool shed on the farm. And Miss June…” he found the correct page and flipped it open, “Miss June was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my entire short life.” By now she’d opened her eyes to study his face as he looked at the calendar photo, watching the fond smile pull up the corners of his mouth as he revisited his youth and then he’d turned to look at her and added simply. “Until now.”

She sucked in her breath ever so little and tried to read the expression in his eyes. “Until now? Ephraim there is no comparison between a 20 year old me and a present day me. I mean, look at that?” She gestured to the young girl in the photo. “Even without the retouching job, that was the best I ever looked.” She could barely even recognise herself in the girl who looked back at them, lounging against a sofa with limpid blue eyes.

“Oh I looked. I looked a lot when I was 17 – believe me! I stole the calendar from my uncle’s shed and it was June 1973 in my bedroom for a ridiculously long time,” he leaned in to drop a kiss on her nose, “but you are so, so much more beautiful now.”  He glanced back at the girl in the photo. “It does go a long way to explain why I fell for you so fast when I started at the Agency though. My hormones must have imprinted on you like a duckling, love.” He grinned at her, the warmth in his eyes unmistakeable. “I feel like the guy in the song. _My angel is a centerfold!”_ he half sung it to her before starting to laugh against her shoulder

“You’re crazy, you know that?” she was smiling tremulously at him.

“No, I'm not,” he answered suddenly seriously, dropping the calendar to the floor and pulling her closer. “That girl doesn’t have those freckles on her cheeks that I only get to see when I’m up close like this.” His lips began to trace their way across her cheeks. “That girl doesn’t know yet how to let her eyes crinkle when she’s pretending to be mad at me like right now. That girl…” his hand slid along her thigh until it rested just below her hip where he knew there was the pulled skin of a bullet scar. “That girl doesn’t know yet how brave she’s going to be, how smart, how loyal, how fucking sexy she’s going to be when she grows up. That girl was a teenage boy’s masturbation dream come true, but this woman right here right now? I’d rather have a picture of her any day.”

“You’re serious.” She studied his face, in awe of the expression she saw there

“Of course I'm serious. Besides that girl would never have looked at me twice. I still can’t believe this girl did.” His breath was warm against her neck where he was now gently licking her collarbone and her skin was burning where his hands slid under her clothes against her skin.

“You never know, I might have. I bet you were all cute and gangly like Bambi.” She was leaning into his body, one hand in his hair, fingernails scratching his scalp, while the other caressed his chest through the thin cotton t-shirt.

“I was clutsy, and pimply and definitely a minor so I would hope you wouldn’t have, although my 17 year old self would fight me for saying that.”

She kissed him then, languorously and thoroughly and he was back to thinking that this was his favorite thing in the world when she pulled away and rested her lips near his ear and whispered, “You could have that picture again, you know.” His whole body went rigid as she continued in her sultriest voice. “We could take it right here, right now and then I’d know that when you’re home alone, you’d have company…”

“Very funny,” he murmured.

“Oh I’m absolutely serious,” she said, standing up and slowly undoing her blouse as he stared at her wide-eyed. “I bet you have access to the photo development lab right? So if you have a camera, we could do a historical re-enactment.”

His mouth had gone dry as he watched her slide her slacks zipper down her hip and slide them off, until she was standing in front of him wearing nothing but azure bra and matching panties. She leaned down to pick up the calendar and he knew it was on purpose that she stayed bent just a little longer, letting those panties ride up the curve of her ass, and showing off her toned thighs. She straightened up and flipped to the picture and stared at it thoughtfully. She flipped it around to show him. “Same pose or something different?”

“Same.” It was all he could manage to croak out.

The smile she gave him was wicked and full of promise. “You want to help me out of these? Or are you just going to watch?” Their eyes met and she gave a small laugh. “Oh yes, you like to watch don’t you?” She reached around to undo the clasp of her bra, then released it slowly, exulting in the way his eyes darkened as his gaze lingered on her. She hooked her thumbs in the side of the panties and watched as he unconsciously pressed the heel of his hand against his crotch trying to get comfortable. “Aren’t you missing something?” she asked in a sultry tone.

He dragged his eyes back up to meet hers. “I'm not missing anything,” he answered in a ragged voice.

“Really? How about the camera?” she suggested, pouting at him suggestively.

“Oh that. No I don’t need that.” His smile warmed her in ways beyond the flush of arousal.

She cocked her head to one side. “You don’t?”

He reached out and brought her to stand between his legs and rested his face against the soft skin of her belly. “You’d hate that. You’d hate knowing that I had that. Even if I gave you the negative, you’d always wonder if I had a copy somewhere. An hour from now, you’d be lying there wondering if I’d ever use it against you.”

“No, I wouldn’t!” she protested. “I trust you.”

“I know you do, love, but you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t wonder just a tiny bit.” He was still dropping light kisses along the edge of the panties, but paused to look up at her. “It would always be there like the camera stole a bit of you – and I want all of you.”

Francine slid downward until she was sitting in his lap and took his face in her hands. “I love you.” She relaxed against him, kissing him softly.

“I love you too,” he murmured against the corner of her mouth. “And I really love you naked.”

“Same here,” she laughed back. “Why are you still dressed?”

“Because you were about to make my teenage dreams come true and most teenage boys jerk off with just their hands down their pants?” he teased.

Francine stopped breathing for a moment, caught by the image in her head. “Is that what you want to do?” she asked breathlessly, flush of heat going over her body in waves. “Would you jerk off in front of me like you did back then? Let me sit like I did in that photo and let me see how hot I make you? Do you want me to try and make you come without ever laying a finger on you? Because if that’s what you want…” her voice had dropped off to a heated whisper, “I want to hear you come.”

It still made him as hot as the first time she’d ever said that to him. “Oh God,” he groaned, “I was kidding but now, yeah, I want that.”

She gave him a long lingering kiss, then slipped off his lap and stood in front of him. He watched mesmerised as she slid the panties down her legs and dropped them in his lap before moving to the opposite end of the couch and arranging herself against the pillows facing him. The same sapphire eyes gazed at him that he’d looked at so many times that long hot summer, but this time they were clouded with desire for him, and there was a flush in her cheeks and she was biting her lip that told him she was just barely keeping it together too.

“Take off your shirt,” she instructed. “I want to enjoy the view too.” He could tell from her tone where she was going with it and stood up slowly and pulled off his t-shirt. As she idly ran her fingers across one of her own breast, teasing an already hardened rose-tipped nip, he could feel his own tighten as if she had touched them.

“ _Fuck, I'm not going to last long” he realised._

She ran her tongue between her lips as she studied him and he groaned at the way his jeans became even more uncomfortable. She looked like she was thinking about something and then she spoke.

“Undo your belt and open your fly but leave your jeans on and sit back down.” She pointed to the other end of the sofa. “Sit facing me.”

He did as she asked, feeling only the bare minimum of relief at the loosening of his clothing. He settled down and faced her, waiting for instructions. Instead he got questions.

“So why that picture? Why that one out of a whole calendar?” she asked.

“Because you were the most beautiful girl in it,” he answered immediately. At her raised brow, he rushed on, “Seriously, you were but also… the way you were sitting, the look in your eye… the way your hand was just there, it looked like…” Unbidden, his own hand found its way to his crotch and he was rubbing the fabric of his y-fronts .

“What did it look like?”

“It looked like you were about to start fingering yourself,” he choked out.

Francine raised a single brow and her lips twitched slightly. “Oh I see. Like this?” She lowered her hand and began to rub one finger through the fine silky thatch. Her smile became more noticeable as she saw the way Ephraim was mesmerised by the motion. “Pull out your cock and show it to me,” she ordered.

Ephraim ripped his gaze from where her finger was getting slicker with every movement and looked up. “What?”

She lifted a leg and placed one foot on his crotch and pressed lightly. “Shift those jeans down a bit and pull out your cock,” she repeated.

He did as she asked, pushing his clothes just far enough down to let his erection spring free, jutting up to show her just how hard he was for her.

“Fuck, you look like something out of Playgirl.” She could barely keep herself from reaching out to run a hand over his abs and that trail of dark hair leading down to his crotch.

“Maybe you should take the picture then,” he joked. “Make it last longer.”

“Oh I don’t intend for you to last very long at all,” she answered. She moved her leg again and lightly ran her pointed foot along his length, yanking a groan from him.

“I thought you said you were going to make me come without touching me?” he said disapprovingly.

“I said I wouldn’t lay a finger on you – and I haven’t” she mocked him.

“But if you cheat by doing that, doesn’t that mean I could cheat by doing this?” He grabbed her foot and began to lick the arch. She yanked it back with a shrieking giggle.

“You win! No touching!”

“Except ourselves,” he grinned lazily at her, as he began to stroke himself slowly.

“Except ourselves,” she agreed.  She lowered her other hand to spread her swollen labia, letting him see the erect bud nestled there, then began to rub herself slowly. “You know what I’m thinking about? I’m imagining what it would be like to have your mouth here instead of my hand. I’m thinking about the way you use your tongue on me, the way you let your fingers slide in and out…” She paused when he groaned and began to stroke his cock more firmly. “You know what else I’m thinking about? I’m watching the way you’re using your cum to slick yourself and make it easier to jerk off and I’m thinking how much better it would be if you could just get your hand as wet as my pussy is right now. You could have that if you could just reach over and touch me… right here.” Her head dropped back and she couldn’t help letting out a breathy moan of her own as her fingers found the right spot.

“But rules are rules,” he ground out, feeling his balls tightening as his own movements became more forceful at the sight of her. He could see her clit swelling under her fingers and knew she was close. “You said no touching.”

“I never said you couldn’t touch me,” she gasped. “Just that I wouldn’t lay a finger on you.” The words were stuttering out of her the closer she got to her own climax but she really did want to see if she could make him come like this. “I don’t have to use my fingers after all. I could just spread my legs and let you fuck me. Or I could just lick you up the full length of that sublime tool and take you in my mouth and suck you. I could get on my knees with my hands behind my back and deep throat you so hard you’ll feel me screaming against your tip when you hit my vocal cords.”

“Oh fuck!” Ephraim’s hand was moving faster now as she watched her words have their effect on him. He was arching back against the pillows, looking obscenely good with his jeans hitched on his hips and his hand stroking firmly. It took all of her strength not to fling herself across the couch and ran her hands over his abs, his hips, his ass, to take him in her mouth and taste him. His breath was getting more ragged and when he opened his eyes to see why she’d stopped talking, she could see that, even behind his glasses, his pupils were blown so wide, his gaze was almost black with desire. His eyes dropped to where she was still fingering herself furiously and she knew he could see how dripping wet she was at the sight of him.

“Is this what you thought about all those years ago? Did you think about me like this, so ready, wanting you so bad? Is this what you wanted, love?”

That was the final straw, that hard-won endearment that sent him spiraling over the edge, gasping out a feral cry, lost in the blackness of eyes squeezed shut as he came. She thought it was possible he’d never looked more beautiful than at this moment of complete loss of self-control as his cum splattered onto his stomach.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring at the ceiling because of the way he was still arched over the throw pillows before shifting to where he could see her, still across the couch and looking like the cat who’d swallowed the cream. “You win,” he muttered.

“I win,” she agreed then added, “well not completely yet.”

He realised she was still caressing herself and the reckless glint told him she was still waiting to come. “I’m waiting for you, love,” she smirked.

“You want me to watch you?” He could feel his half-hard cock twitch at the thought; even now every nerve in his body was responding to her.

“No, I want you to finish me.” He licked his lips and she nodded. “But I want you to go slow because I am so ready for you, it’s not going to take much.”

Despite her warning, he was on her in an instant, hands cupping her face and kissing her tenderly, before beginning to slowly work his kisses down her neck and body. She had stopped pleasuring herself in anticipation of him and now began to comb her fingers through his hair with small whimpers of pleasure.

“You were so gorgeous just now,” she murmured. “The way you looked at me, the way your eyes go black when you come, it was amazing.”

“I had amazing inspiration,” he breathed out against the breast he was nibbling. “I told you before, you are so much more beautiful now.”

She gave a sound that was half laugh, half sob and he raised his head to stare at her. “I have never felt as beautiful as I do now, when you say that.”

“Did you think I didn’t mean it?” He sounded so disbelieving that she had to laugh again. He relaxed and began to lick his way along her skin, sliding to his knees in front of her and pausing reverently. He ran his hands up her thighs pausing to kiss the bullet scar as he always did before running his hands along her legs to part them further, then began kissing her lightly along the silky inner skin.

“Ephraim.” She moaned out his name as his warm breath drew closer to the bundle of nerves pulsing at her core. “Please, love, please.”

“Your wish is my command,” he smiled up at her, then bowed his head to run the flat of his tongue all along her pussy. “I love the taste of you.” He inserted a finger and began to fondle her lightly. “I love the feel of you.” He laughed at the way she wriggled at his touch and the wordless begging noise she made. “And I love the sound you make when I’m doing this to you.”

As he began to gently suck her swollen clit as the tip of his tongue flicked against it, her hand reached for his free one where it was still resting on her thigh and twined her fingers through his. “Do you even know what you said when you came?” she asked, grinding against him.

He made a questioning sound, his mouth too busy suckling her, his mind too consumed with his need for her to remember.

“You said my name.” He did remember that now and hummed against her, provoking a long low moan. He glanced up her body, almost hardening again at the sight of her, almost gone. “You said my name like nothing I ever heard.” Her breath began to hitch, as he added a second finger and began a beckoning motion along her g-spot. A few touches like that, and a very few firm tongue licks and she was spasming under him, her orgasm coating his tongue with the almost citrus flavour. He pressed down harder, tongue and lips working to draw out the long shudders.

“Ephraim,” she was tugging on his hair now, almost as if she wanted him to stop although her tone and her arching hips said otherwise. “Ephraim… I gotta… I need… oh god… Fuck me please.”

He pulled his head away from the addictive taste of her and sat back on his heels. Without pause, Francie slid onto his lap, wedging herself between the sofa and his body and sheathing herself over the remnants of his erection. He braced himself to take her weight as she began rocking against him frantically, moaning at the way the interior friction was prolonging her climax.

He wouldn’t have believed it was possible but the sensation of her around him, the feel of her skin plastered against his and the extremely obscene way she was moaning his name into his ear actually had him starting to harden again. He shifted slightly so that she was more braced against the front of the sofa and as he began lifting and circling his hips in a corkscrew motion, he cupped her breasts in his hands for a moment before pinching her nipples, eliciting an expletive-laden noise of encouragement and a tightening of her hands on his shoulders.

“You have the most gorgeous tits, Desmond,” he said teasing. “I could just stop here and play with them all day.” He purposely slowed his hips as he said it, grinning at the way she almost bared her teeth in frustration. She began bucking against him trying to get him to increase his speed again. He knew she was close but he wasn’t quite there yet and needed time so he edged her one last time, lowering his hands to grasp her hips and hold them still, while his thumbs gently rubbed along her loins as she glared at him in pure frustration. “You wanna come again, Desmond? So greedy. Should I make you beg?”

She knew what he was doing, teasing her in revenge for how she’d made him come for her but there was a tone of desperation in her voice. “Beaman, you fucking bastard, you fucking, fucking, fucking, ohhhhh” as he began to move his hips again, shafting her deeply. Her moans turned onto incoherent encouragement, the level of expletives increasing even more as she ratcheted toward a second peak. She was circling her hips in counterpoint to his now, looking for that magic pressure point.

He stopped breathing, looking down on this siren creature, looking completely debauched with the rosy flush rippling across her porcelain skin, her eyes closed and her pebbled nipples ruby red now as they pointed skyward as she arched her back. She was completely at his mercy and he could feel the tell tale pulse at the bottom of his balls that said he was going to come again. He reached quickly between them to rub her clit with the ball of his thumb as he thrust into her.

“Come with me, love.” He wasn’t even sure that he said the words out loud, but whether he had or not, she came with a screaming wail that clenched her around him as he saw stars from the shooting electrical pulses running up his spine and back down his body to his groin.

He hauled her back up against him, burying his face in her hair as she went boneless in his arms. She shook in his embrace, warm breath against his neck, as she gasped for breath.

“I thought you were tired,” she finally managed to laugh out.

“Well, I'm fucking exhausted now,” he said, chuckling in agreement. He tipped his head to drop a kiss on her lips. “But you are so beautiful I couldn't resist.”

She looked down their bodies at the rapidly drying sweat and cum now coating both of them and grimaced. “I’ll feel more beautiful after a shower.”

“Yes, I definitely need one of those,” he agreed, wincing slightly as they both moved to stand up and he realised how long he’d been kneeling. He looked down at his soaked underwear and jeans still circling the top of his thighs and laughed again. “And laundry.”

“Come on, love. Race you for the shower,” Francine teased, laughing over her shoulder.

“How can I race?” he asked grumpily “When it’s your fault I’m still half-dressed?” He was already pulling off his jeans though, hopping after her as she laughed harder.

“Good thing I love a man who does everything so exquisitely slowly.” Her voice traveled out of the bathroom where she already had the water running.

Fifteen minutes later, they were clean, dry and wrapped around each other in his bed. He was fucking exhausted but Francine was curled against him sleepily, hands running through his hair, her lips gliding across his jaw, his collarbone, his lips… Yes, he thought, the kissing might actually be his favorite part.

 


	2. Domino Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the bad days come out of nowhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is going to be longer than I thought. Sorry, not sorry.

Between the Walkman and her concentration on the file in front of her, Francine didn’t hear the buzz of conversation as people passed her desk on the way to the coffee room. It wasn’t until Billy tapped her desk to get her attention that she even looked up, wrenching her brain from the intelligence files.

Billy waited for her to remove the headphones before saying, “I need to talk to you in my office.”

“What about?” she asked, getting to her feet and following him.  She raised a brow as he closed the door. “What have I done now?” she asked, in a light tone.

“Nothing as far as I know. I want to talk to you about Beaman.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, what now, Billy? We’ve been getting along fine.  I mean, we’re no Scarecrow and Mrs King but our partnership seems to be working alright. I don’t know why you keep ques- ”

Billy held a hand up to stop her in mid-rant. “I know all that, Francine. What I want to know is what you know about his movements this morning.”

_You mean after I left his apartment at the crack of dawn to go home and get dressed for work?_

“He’s not skipping work, if that’s what you’re asking. You gave him the morning off, remember? He asked you yester-”

“Desmond!” She stopped short at the tone in his voice. “Francine, I need to know if he’s anywhere near the accident zone because I’ve gotten a call that his ID was found there.”

“What accident zone?” she asked, fighting the rising panic.

Billy looked at her quizzically. “Have you not heard anything about the collapse downtown?”

She shook her head as he reached for the TV remote and snapped the volume up. For the first time she realised there was live news coverage playing on the monitor in the corner.

_We’re still live at the scene of this devastating building collapse on P Street. For viewers just joining us, we’ll bring you up to speed. The new Metrobank building under construction has had a catastrophic collapse, bringing almost ten stories concrete down onto the Carnahan Professional Center beside it. Firefighters from four different station are on the scene searching the rubble …_

Francine felt a cold wave of terror cascading over her as she watched. She heard Billy say her name and finally realised he’d been calling her several times.

“He was there?” she asked.

“That’s what I'm trying to find out,” said Billy in frustration. “I’m getting reports that they found his badge but they’re still pulling people out and…”

“Where are they taking them?” she interrupted, ignoring the roaring sound in her ears that made everything sound a million miles away, even her own voice. “The people they’re pulling out? Where are they taking them?”

“Trauma Center at Parkland,” answered Billy, and he would have gone on, but she had turned and walked out of his office. She pushed past Lee who was coming to knock on the door and headed for the elevator, blind to everyone in her path.

“Francine, what’s wrong?” she thought she heard Amanda’s voice but just kept walking. She was almost at the elevator when she heard the running steps behind her and then felt Lee spinning her around in place.

“Billy told me about… we’re coming with you,” he said in a voice that meant he wouldn’t take no for an answer. She nodded dumbly and turned back to the elevator doors, willing them to open. Amanda arrived to join them just as the doors opened and the three of them stepped into the tiny space. The moment the doors closed, Lee took her hand and squeezed it. “He’ll be fine,” he said. “We’re not even sure he’s there.”

“He had a dentist appointment there this morning,” she answered dully. She felt more than saw Lee and Amanda exchange a look.

“Billy send my boyfriend along for moral support?” she couldn’t help the snarky comment but her voice broke on the last word.

Lee’s hand tightened around hers. “No, he thinks I’m here because I’ve been through it too.”

She looked up at him with horrified eyes. “Ephraim is NOT dead!”

“Of course he’s not!” Amanda rushed to say. “Lee meant we’ve been through worrying about a partner.”

Francine stared at her for a beat, seeing the concern in those warm brown eyes before nodding jerkily. “Right. I forgot.”

The elevator had arrived at the lobby by now and the three of them swept out the front door past the reception. Mrs. Marsten opened her mouth to remind them about their building passes but took in the look on their faces and said nothing.

When they arrived at the hospital, Lee let Francine take the lead, knowing better than most the need she felt to be in charge, to be doing something in a helpless situation. She was the one who badgered the receptionist into telling them where patients were being taken, she was the one who flashed her badge and wouldn’t take no for an answer to get behind the scenes in the Emergency Room, she was the one who spotted the dust-covered cop being bandaged up and began to quiz him about the accident scene.

“Agency, huh?” he squinted at her badge. “Yeah, we pulled out one of your guys. He’d been in some kind of debris pocket until the second collapse.”

“Second collapse?”

“Yeah, the first part that fell down just trapped a bunch of folks in the other building by blocking doors but then the debris shifted and another couple of stories of the Metrobank building fell them.” Somehow his long Virginian drawl made it sound less serious but Francine still flinched at the mental image.

“But you pulled him out? Was he okay?”

“Yeah we pulled him out along with the guy and the kid, but his skull was just about half split open. We only knew who he was cause of the ID in his coat pocket. That’s probly why you got a call.” The cop waved toward the back, not noticing how pale she’d gone. “They took him back there a while ago, I think. Nurses’d know better.”

Francine turned away to start searching for a nurse, aware that Lee’s hand at her back was just about the only thing holding her up. She began pacing down the corridor, glancing into rooms until she found a nurse who wasn’t busy with a patient. Flashing her badge, she asked where she could find the agent who’d been brought in.

“I think he went upstairs for surgery but Madge at the desk will know.” She motioned to the desk in the middle of the chaos of more and more people arriving from the accident zone. By this time, Francine was just about to lose her mind, but Madge, thankfully, was a no-nonsense head nurse who glanced at their badges and immediately pulled up a bag from under the counter. “Your boy went up for surgery about half an hour ago. I bagged up his stuff. His badge is on top.”

As she held out a hand and took the clear plastic bag, recognizing Ephraim’s leather jacket without difficulty. “What kind of surgery?” she managed to ask in a voice that didn’t give away too much of the pulsing terror that was pumping through her veins.

“Just about everything I should think,” answered the older woman, distracted as she was by the ongoing crisis. “He was half crushed.” She looked up and saw the way Lee was glaring at her over Francine’s shoulder and went on more gently. “Internal bleeding I think, head wound, um, collapsed sternum… I’m not going to lie – he didn’t look good.”

That was the moment when she was sure she was going to collapse and Lee must have thought the same because she found herself hauled around the corner of the hallway and wrapped in his arms. He was leaning on the wall so he could take her full weight and he was stroking her back and she knew he was saying something soothing but all she could hear was Ephraim’s voice that morning, sleepily teasing her as she got up to make her walk of shame home and he made plans to grab another hour of sleep before he had to go to the dentist. She could feel Lee’s shirt getting damp and realised for the first time that she was crying against his chest. She knew he hated crying women and went to pull away but he just tightened his grip on her, resting his head on hers and continued to rock her gently.

“He’ll be okay,” he was saying but she knew he was lying. That nurse knew she was giving them bad news. She’d done it again – she’d let herself get close to someone and they’d left.

“He promised,” she moaned against Lee’s chest.

“Promised what, sweetheart?”

“He promised to stay.”

“Francine, he hasn’t gone anywhere. He’s in the best hands he could be. It’s going to be ok.” She felt his head lift up and look around. “Amanda’s going to go find out where we need to go and then we’ll call Billy allright? He can get him the best care there is. It’ll be ok, it’ll be ok.”

She could hear his heart pounding under her ear and knew he was reliving the last time he’d been in an Emergency Room like this. She felt Amanda lean in and embrace both of them briefly before turning away but she hadn’t taken more than a few steps when Francine heard her gasp and suddenly she was being tugged out away from Lee.

“Francine, he’s here! He’s here! Come on!”

She let herself be tugged back around the corner not understanding what Amanda was saying as she looked around in confusion. Amanda was still pulling on her and pointing and then – she saw him. He was in shirtsleeves and he was carrying a small child who had its arms wrapped around his neck like a limpet. A paramedic was guiding him in, gesturing toward the desk and calling for a nurse. He was filthy from head to foot, his glasses were gone – he looked like he’d just walked out of a disaster movie which she guessed he had.

The relief she felt was so overwhelming that all she could do was stand there staring. A nurse approached him and spoke briefly before trying to take the child out of his arms. The little one – so covered in dust that it was impossible to tell if it was a boy or a girl – gripped harder to him and began to wail. Ephraim leaned heavily on the counter, talking into its ear and pointing to the back rooms until it finally released him and let a nurse take it into her arms. He stood there for a moment looking exhausted but not moving until the kid was out of sight, then he staggered to the row of chairs against the wall and collapsed into one.

She walked toward him like she was a robot, then slid into the seat beside him. With his head tilted back against the wall, he didn’t know she was there until she spoke. “Bad day at the office, honey?” With a sound faintly like a whimper, he slid sideways into her arms. His arms went around her waist, his face was buried in her neck, and she wanted to hug him tightly but wasn't sure if he was injured so settled for running her hands over him checking for injury.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he mumbled into her hair.

“Same here.” She ran her fingers through his hair trying to see if any of the tiny bits of concrete she could see had done damage, but everything seemed to be superficial. “How did you lose your coat?” she asked finally.

“I – uh – we were trapped after the ceiling came down on us and there was a guy in the room beside mine. Part of the wall hit him and he was going into shock so I wrapped my coat around him. And then everything collapsed again and it was just me and Mitch until they dug us out.”

“Is Mitch the kid?”

“Yeah. The nurse said his mom was already here somewhere.” He sighed and hugged her closer for a moment. “How’d you find me?”

“Your badge was in your coat pocket. We got a call.” He felt her shudder at that memory. “They told us you were in surgery.” She stopped and hugged him a little tighter. “I thought you were going to die.”

There was movement beside them and she lifted her head to find Amanda crouching in front of them with a wet cloth and a basin in her hands. Francine took the cloth with a mouthed thank you, and began to gently wipe the dirt from anywhere she could reach.

‘I wanna go home,” he whined. “Can we just go home?”

She looked up and met Amanda’s eyes, and for the first time that day, they smiled at each other, both of them stifling a laugh at how much he sounded like Lee. The same Lee who picked that moment to show up with a large glass of water and press it into Ephraim’s hand.

“Forget it, buddy. You’re not going anywhere until you get checked out,” he said, which earned him looks of astonishment from the two women. “What?” he asked. “Come on, even I’d stay here if a fucking building had fallen on top of me!”

There was a moment of silence and then Ephraim began to laugh, shaking quietly at first, then beginning to wheeze because of the amount of dust he’d ingested until he was coughing uncontrollably. Francine patted his back helplessly, grabbing the glass when he threatened to drop it from the way his body was jerking, until he grabbed it back and emptied it in a few huge gulps. When he finally got his breath back, he looked up at Francine with a grin. “A building fell on me? That’s what happened?” He looked back and forth between the three people looking at him with concern. “I spent all this time training to deal with guns and explosives and car chases and spies and then a building just went and fucking fell on me while I’m sitting in a waiting room?”

It was Lee whose sense of humor came back to the surface the fastest.  “Well, when you put it like that…” he said and both men cracked up again.

Francine and Amanda exchanged looks. “Boys,” sighed Amanda. “They’re all the same.”

Ephraim’s adrenaline rush was wearing off again and he slumped against Francine.  “Wanna go home,” he mumbled again. Francine looked over his head at Amanda who looked thoughtful for a moment before turning to Lee.

“Can we call Doctor Kelford to come down here? Then if he needs to be hospitalized, he’s already here?”

Lee nodded. “That’s a good idea. I’ll go call Billy.”

Ephraim had sunk deeper onto Francine’s lap, already half-asleep, lulled by the way her fingers were caressing him. She lifted her head and met Amanda’s look of concern. “Thanks.”

Amanda reached out to rest her hand on Francine’s arm and squeezed it comfortingly. “No problem. Like I said, we know what it’s like.”

She glanced down at her partner’s head in her lap, then back up at the warm brown eyes observing her. “How do you stand it?” she whispered. “How do you care about someone when everyday could be a day like this? How do you and Lee do this everyday?”

“Oh Francine, everyday isn’t like this. Even for us, most days are boring. And it’s worth it, don’t you think?”

“Do I?”

Amanda tilted her head and studied her friend. “I think so. And I think you do too.”

Francine looked down to where her fingers were still carding their way through Ephraim’s hair. Even half-asleep his hand was gripping her knee as if he was afraid she might slip away. “I’m not good at this,” she said brokenly.

“Francine!” The stern tone in Amanda’s voice made her look up. “You cannot be a perfectionist about everything in your life, and nobody is good at this! This was an accident – it could have happened to anyone. Look around, for heaven’s sake!”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Francine? It really is.”

She was still trying to formulate a response when Lee returned.

“Doc says if he’s mobile, we should bring him back to the Agency. They have everything there and the hospital’s busy enough with everyone else anyway.”

Francine tapped Ephraim’s cheek. “Ok, Beaman. Up and at ‘em.”

“Going home?” he asked sleepily.

“If you’re good. But Doc Kelford wants to have a look at you first.”

“Ok.” Ephraim pulled himself upright and looked around squinting. “You’ll have to point me at a door.”

It was Lee though who leaned in and grabbed him around the waist, steadying him against his side and steering him toward the exit.

“Changing teams, Scarecrow?” he managed to mutter. “Didn’t think I was your type.”

“No, I still like Francine better which is why I’m not taking the chance of you crushing her to death when you fall over halfway to the car.”

“She’d be fine,” slurred Ephraim. “She’s small but mighty. She’d kick your ass anyday.”

Lee grinned at Francine over Ephraim’s head. “He’s going to be just fine.”


	3. Doctor's Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the most observant people aren't even spies.

In the end Ephraim had remained mobile enough to make it to the infirmary under his own steam. The doctor had looked bemused but had given in to Francine’s request to stay in the room.

“My partner, my responsibility,” she’d said, glaring at him. “I'm staying.”

Kelford had looked sideways at the patient trying to gauge if he should argue with her. Beaman had just shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I want to stay on her good side.”

Kelford turned and muttered quietly, “She has a good side?” which had made Ephraim laugh hard enough to make him hiss with pain.

It was Francine who had hissed when they got his shirt off to reveal the bruises decorating his chest and back, but the doctor confirmed that it really was just bruising – no sign of broken ribs, no sign of concussion, no reason to stay there.

“Although…” Kelford began and Ephraim began to groan before he’d even finished. “I don’t like that I can’t check your vision with no glasses. Maybe you should stay here overnight in case there’s a concussion I haven’t detected.”

“No,” said Francine decisively. “I'm taking him home.”

Kelford turned to stare at her.

“I’ll stay with him and keep an eye on him, but he’s not staying here. My partner, my responsibility,” she repeated.

“You’re beginning to sound like Stetson and King,” remarked Kelford in an amused tone, which earned him an icy glare. “Or not,” he added immediately. “Okay, I'm not willing to make her mad, so I'm going to let Ms. Desmond drive you home now, Mr. Beaman. But I want you back in here first thing.”

“You got it.” Ephraim was up and out of his chair before he could change his mind, then stopped dead as he realised he couldn’t find his way out of the room without help.

Kelford had given Francine a quizzical look and opened his mouth, closing it again rapidly when her eyes had flashed with anger as if she’d known what he was going to suggest.

“Come on, Beaman,” she’d linked her arm through his and walked him out the door. They were just disappearing down the hall when Billy arrived and stuck his head in the door.

“You’ve released him? He’s healthy?”

“Healthy enough but he won’t be much use to you for a few weeks,” answered Doctor Kelford.

“Better useless for a few weeks than dead.” said Billy somberly

“True enough. I’ll put both of them on the light duty roster officially.”

“Both of them?”

“Agent Desmond isn’t going to be any use to you either until he’s better.” Kelford finished writing up his notes and looked up to find Billy staring at him. “I thought the grapevine said she and Scarecrow were dating again?”

“They are,” said Billy.

“Really? Well if I was Scarecrow, I’d be keeping an eye on those two.”

“Oh, that's nothing he has to worry about. Francine treats Beaman like an annoying little brother,” scoffed Billy. “She barely tolerates him at the best of times. I don’t know why their solve rate is so good because all they seem to do is fight.”

"Really? She seems quite, umm protective?"

"Well, he's always been kind of her pet, so I suppose she feels some responsibility. Even before they had to work together, she was never as outright rude to him as she is to other agents who it on her." Billy laughed suddenly. "The Christmas party should be a lot less interesting this year. I think proximity has taken the shine off his crush on her."

The doctor looked up at Billy in amazement and shook his head at his obtuseness _. Pet? More like heavy petting_ he thought but said nothing. “Well his near miss appears to have shaken her, so I’m taking her off duty for the rest of the week, and if she complains, just put her in charge of his recovery like you did with Mrs. King and Scarecrow last year.”

“I don’t think Francine will take kindly to being a nanny,” said Billy doubtfully.

The doctor leaned back and stared at him. “Well, if she’s a responsible pet owner, she’ll agree,” he joked.

Billy rolled his eyes. “Well, if she’s a responsible pet owner, she’d probably neuter him and then what good is he?”

Kelford looked down to hide his grin. “Oh, I’m pretty sure she’s too irresponsible to take it that far, Mr. Melrose.”

 


	4. Orders of Magnitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all the aftershocks are at the accident site.

“You brought me to my home?” asked Ephraim in confusion. “I thought you were going to take me home and look after me?”

“I did and I am. You’re going to feel better faster in your own bed, especially since your bed is bigger than mine, and your fridge probably has actual food in it. And your spare glasses are here and I'm getting tired of you not being able to see.”

“Me too,” agreed Ephraim sadly as he followed in her wake. He knew his own building well enough not to need to be led around it, and once they were in his apartment, he relaxed, happy to be in familiar surroundings where he could find his way around blind. Not being blind was the first thing on his To Do list though and he headed straight for his bedside table and the spare pair of wire-frames glasses tucked in there. He sighed with relief as he slipped them on and everything came back into sharp focus.

“You’ve had a break in,” called an amused voice from the other room.

“What do you mean?” he asked as he began to pull off the dusty dirty clothes, deciding after a moment to drop the shirt straight into the garbage.

“Your fridge is full of all sorts of things that I'm pretty sure came straight from Amanda’s freezer. She’s obviously been working on her lockpick skills but I’ll forgive her because she’s left us enough supplies that we won’t need to leave here for weeks.” Francine appeared in the doorway and watched as he slowly pulled his trousers off, wincing as he did so. He looked up and met her eyes, properly for the first time since she’d left this same room 12 long hours before. 

“Hi gorgeous,” he said jokingly. “Nice to see you again.”

In that instant, he could see it flash across her face as the events of the day really caught up with her. For just a second, she swayed and he wondered if she was going to pass out, but then the sway translated to movement and she was across the room, arms wrapped around him, face buried in his chest.

He buried his face in her blond tresses, and inhaled her sweet musky scent, desperate to wipe away the lingering scent of construction debris from inside his head. “Bad day at the office, honey?” he repeated her joke from earlier and felt her snort against his skin, even as her arms tightened.

“The worst,” she said, voice muffled by how closely she was holding him.

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed.

They stood like that for several moments, drinking in the solitude and each other before Francine finally pushed back and said decisively, “Hot bath.”

“Bath? Really?” he asked with slight distaste. “I don’t think I’ve done that since I was a kid.”

“Yes, bath, because you need to soak all over, it’ll relax you more, and you can keep your glasses on.”

“Okay, you sold me on it with that last one. I want to be able to see you.”

“Oh you’ll see me,” she said jauntily over her shoulder as she walked into the bathroom to run the tub. “I’ll be in there with you.”

He started to laugh, then looked down and grimaced. “Love? I need to shower first.” Her head reappeared around the edge of the door with a questioning look. “I need to rinse off – I don’t want to sit in a soup of building dust.”

She looked him up and down and wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, me neither.” She turned and he heard the running faucet click over to the shower setting.

She hadn’t been kidding, climbing into the shower with him as soon as the water was hot enough, which was useful more than anything when he realised he was too stiff to lift his arms properly to wash his hair. She’d done that for him, and scrubbed down all the places where she could see dirt and he couldn’t, before she’d flipped the faucet again and filled the tub, leaving him to soak out the muscle aches while she pulled on a robe and went to find something to heat up from the many things Amanda had left for them.

He fell into a slight doze, waking only when the water started to cool too much, dragging himself out to dry off, suddenly ravenous as he realised he hadn’t eaten all day and wondering why Francine hadn’t come back to join him in the bath as promised. He heard the tv but didn’t think much about it until he walked out to find Francine sitting on his sofa staring open-mouthed at the news coverage of the collapse. He walked up behind her just in time to see an aerial shot from the Channel 4 copter and for the first time really took in the damage.

“Holy shit,” he breathed out, appetite gone again.

The entire left side of the Carnahan building was a mess of pancaked concrete. It was almost inconceivable that no one had been killed, but by the grace of God, the top four floors had been empty due to a massive reconstruction project going on and they had taken the brunt of the primary collapse, giving the people on the floors below a chance to evacuate.

 _Killed so far_ he corrected himself. There were a number of victims still in hospital, the most critically injured of which had been the man sitting across from him in the waiting room. _That could have been me._

“That could have been you,” said Francine, turning to look at him wide-eyed.

“Yeah.” He couldn’t even disagree. If he hadn’t gotten up to go help that kid reach a toy in the toybox, he’d have been under that same chunk of ceiling. He skirted around the sofa and sat down beside her. They sat there in silence for several minutes before she got up jerkily and walked to the kitchen, dishing out the warmed up lasagna and setting it on the small kitchen table. He stayed mesmerised by the news until he felt her hand on his shoulder.

“You should eat,” she murmured, nodding her head toward the table. “And you should probably stop watching that,” she added, picking up the remote and turning it off.

He pulled himself to his feet with a groan; the bath hadn’t relieved him of all the aches; and walked to the table. He watched her as he ate; she seemed just as robotic as he felt, eating but with no obvious sign of enjoyment and rarely looking up from her plate. He could tell it was only hitting her now – the long day of overstretched emotions. She was the queen of tamping down emotions – except when she was with him – and he knew it had taken her almost to breaking point to hide her stress when they’d gone back to the Agency. He wasn't going to complain – it was the reason she wouldn’t agree to him staying there overnight, which he’d been too tired and disoriented to fight for. He wasn’t all that hungry himself, but forced himself to continue picking at his meal until she was done hers before pushing back his plate and standing up.

“Come to bed,” he said holding out his hand. “It’s been a shitty day.”

“You go,” she said with false brightness. “I’ll clean up.”

He watched her glance at the dishes and added, “They’ll be fine. Just leave them.”

He could see her hesitating and continued to hold out his hand. “Come on, love. I’m exhausted and I don’t want to be alone.” It was the truth – he needed to hold her but he could tell she was at her breaking point as well. His heart ached a little at her obvious hesitation but after a pause, she took his hand and followed him into the bedroom. He looked longingly at the bed before giving himself a shake and going to brush his teeth. Francine followed suit with some amusement.

“All this and you still think to maintain your dental hygiene, Beaman? You’re such a nerd.”

“Well I'm going to have to be extra vigilant since I guess I'm going to have to find a new dentist,” he said idly as he walked out of the bathroom toward the bed.

Francine started to laugh but it choked off at the end with something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. He turned and found her standing with her hand over her mouth and a horrified expression. He strode back and pulled her into his arms.

“I'm sorry,” he soothed. “Too soon to joke about it.”

She nodded jerkily but let him lead her to the bed, waiting until he had lowered himself carefully onto it, before sliding under the covers beside him and observing him quietly across the pillow.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling her slightly rigid body closer. When she didn’t relax, he sighed. “Francine, you weigh 130 lbs sopping wet, you can’t bruise me anymore than I am already.”

“But I could make the ones you have worse,” she grumbled.

“I’ll live,” he answered without thinking and felt her start to stiffen again. “God, love, I’m fine, just relax. That’s what I need right now.” He tightened his arm around her back and kissed her forehead. Aches aside, he was perfectly content just like this, rubbing his fingertips up and down her soft skin like she was a cat.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she said finally after a few minutes of silence.

“Do you want me to?” he asked in return.

She was silent for a moment, rolling over the question in her head. “I’d rather know than imagine it, I think, but only if you want to tell me.”

“Well, you know some of it,” he answered. “The first collapse took down most of the waiting room but I was over helping Mitch reach something in the toy section so the worst of it missed me. And maybe I should have tried to get out at that point, but the guy who had been hit needed help so I stayed. But once I’d done what I could for him, Mitch’s mother was a basket case so I thought I should try and get the two of them out and find help.” He paused, trying to get his thoughts in order. “So I was carrying the little guy and his mother was following us and we’d just gotten to the emergency stairwell and I’d gone in to check if we could get out when the second part came down and we were trapped in this tiny pocket up against the door. I could hear his mom on the other side yelling but now the door was jammed – she couldn’t get to us, and we couldn’t get back to her and my glasses were smashed so I couldn’t even tell if there was a way for us to try and get out.  So I yelled for her to go back down the hall and look for another exit, which I guess she did, since she was at the hospital before us, and me and the kid just curled up and waited for someone to pull us out. The poor kid – he was so terrified, he just went limp and quiet. When they finally did get to us, I couldn’t get him to let go of me – he was like one of those baby monkeys that just cling, you know? The ambulance guys could barely check either of us because he wouldn’t let go.”

“Yeah, I saw him at the hospital when you came in,” said Francine softly. “The nurse practically had to peel him off you.”

“I hope he’s ok.”

“We’ll check on him first thing in the morning,” said Francine.

“Ok. And that’s the whole story really. Just one lucky escape after another, bruises notwithstanding.”

She was tracing circles on his chest now, relaxed a bit more now that she’d heard what really happened. She’d been right to ask – her imagination had been a lot worse than the actual events.

“Thanks for coming for me.”

“What?” She raised her head to stare at him, uncertain what he meant by that. “Of course I came for you!”

He raised a brow. “I heard you, you know. I know I seemed out of it, but I heard you.” Her look of complete confusion prompted him to go on. “Talking to Amanda at the hospital. Asking how she stood it. You didn’t sound much like you wanted to be there.”

“Oh that.”

“Mmm, oh-that.”

“That was a rhetorical question,” she said firmly. “And it’s not polite to eavesdrop anyway.”

He chuckled at that – he could see her going into hedgehog mode – all prickles and defensiveness. “It didn’t sound rhetorical – you sounded like you wanted an answer.”

“Pffft, I knew the answer. It wasn't a question, it was a…” she searched for the right word. “Compliment,” she finished.

“It was a compliment. Riiiight,” he said mockingly.

“It was!” she said, slapping him lightly on the chest then looking horrified as she remembered his injuries.

“I'm fine. Go on explaining,” he laughed, lifting her hand and kissing her palm.

“I honestly don’t know how she does it. I can’t even count how many times she’s been around Lee when he’s been shot, or stabbed, or left for dead and she just seems to take it in stride. I mean we had a funeral for him once! And she just swans along like it doesn’t bother her at all – like I said I don’t know how she does it.”

“She practiced on her kids first. Stetson’s a walk in the park compared to your average ten year old.”

“Well, I can’t do that. I have no maternal instinct,” grumbled Francine, head back on his chest

“That’s good. I don’t need a mother. I like my little Tasmanian Devil – all piss and vinegar rescuing me from hospitals and fighting with Dr. Kelford.” She lifted her head to look at him and found him looking at her tenderly, lips twitching slightly.

“Why do I suddenly feel like you’re the one trying to make me feel better when it should be the other way around?” she sighed.

“Because I'm not the one fighting shadows,” he answered.

“You weren’t really surprised I came for you today, were you?” she asked suddenly.

“Honestly?” he asked.

She nodded, suddenly afraid of what he might say.

“Honestly, I half expected you to show up and pull me out of there yourself.  The way I see it, you’re a little bit scary and the firemen wouldn’t have been able to stop you.”

“Probably not,” she agreed, eyes misting over. “And I would have if I’d known.”

“I know.”

She rolled closer to him, giving him a long lingering kiss, hands roaming as if she needed to confirm he was really there. When his body responded, she lifted her head in astonishment.

“Seriously?”

“I'm a young man with needs,” he said with mock seriousness. “And you are enough to make me crazy with lust on my deathbed. Which this isn’t!” he rushed to add when she open her mouth to scold him. “So aren’t you going to kiss it and make it better?”

“I don’t know, that sounds pretty motherly to me.” Then seeing his look of disappointment she went on “Hmmm. Where does it hurt?” she asked.

“Everywhere?” he said hopefully.

“Everywhere. Huh? How about I just start and you can tell me if I’m getting warmer?” She began trailing kisses along his jaw, then down his neck to his shoulder where a huge yellow and purple bruise was blooming. As his hands caressed her, she could feel herself beginning her instant response to him.

“Warmer?” she teased.

“I sure am,” he groaned as she began flicking his nipple with her tongue.

“I meant me,” she pretended to scold him, her hands now circling the top of his thighs, teasing him with almost-touches and ghost passes of his now-straining cock.

“You’re very hot, love” he confirmed as she puffed out a laugh against his chest. She shifted down his body, nuzzling the trail of hair that curled it’s way down his navel, pausing with his cock trapped between her breasts, and looked up at him with a false demure expression from under her long dark lashes.

“I feel like this is definitely warm now.”

“Fuck yes!” he gasped unable to resist raising his hips to fret against her.

“How about now?” she asked just before wrapping her mouth around him.

His head lifted off the pillow at the unbelievable sensation then dropped back, too quickly as it turned out because the room started to spin.

He must have gone oddly boneless because Francine released him instantly, pulling herself up stare into his eyes. “Ephraim? Love? What’s the matter?”

He tried to focus on her and gave a half-hearted laugh. “You made the earth move, I think. The bed's spinning a bit.”

“What do you mean? Do I need to take you back to the hospital? Maybe you did get a concussion!” She was feeling around his head, looking for a non-existent injury. He captured her hand and brought it to his chest.

“I'm fine – it’s not a concussion. I think it’s just the day catching up with me. Maybe just slow down.”

“Slow down? Are you crazy? We should stop.”

“No, no, noooo,” he crooned, pulling her in for a kiss. “We shouldn’t. Just slow down. Just relax.” As he spoke, he was running his hands over her body, trying to calm the trembling. “Just relax,” he repeated.

He rolled on his side, pulling her in close and dropping kisses along the edge of her mouth, then pressing lightly against her lips until she opened up. He lingered there, laving her lips with his tongue, then darting in to tussle with her gently. He ran his hand down her side, letting his thumb strum against her erect nipple as he passed until his hand reached her leg and gently lifted over his. She was no longer fighting it, just tucked herself in closer to grind against him. He gave into the sensation of her silken thatch rubbing along his rod, leaving it damp with her juices. With only the slightest hitch of his hips, he slid into her, watching her head fall back with a whimper of satisfaction, and felt that overwhelming feeling of having come home as her slick warmth clenched around him.

She began to rock against him slowly and he couldn’t hold in the groan as his cockhead slicked its way in and out of her warmth.

She slowed for a moment, taking his face in her hands. “Too much? ”

“No, just so perfect,” he answered. “I love you. Don’t stop.”

He pulled her head down to his, and rocked his hips back toward her, encouraging her to pick up the slow rhythm again. Nothing loath, she began to move again, exquisitely slowly as she tightened her body around his with every thrust.

He knew her responses so well now that he could hear the moment she held her breath as his cock dragged slowly over the exact right spot. She stilled ever so slightly, concentrating on finding that magic angle, her hands tightening on his bicep when she found it.

“Oooohhhh,” she half whimpered, half babbled “That’s it, right there, just there, just there, just there...”

He loved her, but sometimes he felt like he never loved her more than at this moment when her orgasm hit, when she was at her most relaxed, her most wild and she was laid bare for him alone. He barely had time to think of that though before her body was clenching around him in exquisite waves and his vision was whiting out with the force of his own climax.

He wrapped himself around her, waiting for his own shudders to stop, trying to catch his breath, not from the exertion of the lovemaking but from the way his heart was pounding with love for her. He’d held fast to that during that long dark time under the rubble, and he’d never be able to explain to her what it has been like to hear her voice at that moment in the hospital when he’d been at his lowest ebb. He’d needed her so badly at that moment and she’d been there, all sweetness and light and that side of her that hardly anyone ever saw. That probably no one saw except him. And the Stetsons, he thought. He sent up a small prayer of thanks she’d had them that day; he’d heard Amanda keeping her together even if he’d been in no shape to say so. Amanda's instinct to mother was definitely not limited to Scarecrow.

Francine had reached up to snuffle a kiss into his neck, then rolled from the bed only to return a few moment slater with a warm wet cloth to clean them both up.

“Am I going to get a sponge bath every night, Nurse?” he teased.

“Depends if you’ve been a dirty boy or not,” she shot back without even a pause as she tossed the cloth into the hamper, then curled back into the bed. “You should sleep, love. I promised Kelford I’d bring you back in the morning.”

“Mmm,” he hummed happily into her hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She spooned against his back, as if she needed to hold onto him. “But you know, if you really loved me…”

“What?” he asked already half asleep. “If I really loved you what?”

“If you really loved me, you’d know I'm only 120 lbs soaking wet.”

“Oh, you should probably check that – we’ve been eating out a lot lately.”

He held his breath but he could feel her smiling against his shoulder.

“You know, Doc Kelford would never notice a few extra bruises at this point.”

“I know. Small but mighty, can kick my ass. But I still love you though, Desmond”

“Love you too, Beaman.”


End file.
